One More Night
by Secluded Sapphire
Summary: He had conquered the world over, power and wealth are at his disposal. He had convinced himself that everything else was superficial, that he could live without relationships. However, after 15 years, the glimmer of her sapphire eyes was enough to still his breath and somehow, he's 18 again.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.  
**

Hello to all - and to those who have read my stories before, yes, I have returned to Yu-Gi-Oh fanfiction after many years. That being said, please bear with me and leave any useful pieces of criticisms that I can use to better my work.

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_November 2, 2013_

It was pristine, the bed was made so perfectly that it took away the one attractive quality all beds were made to possess, comfort. She sat at the farthest corner of it, if she sat any further, she would slip right onto the beige carpet, but she couldn't bring herself to be comfortable. Her leg bounced up and down, shaking uncontrollably, a nervous habit. She fidgeted with her cellphone, constantly turning it on and checking the time. Finally she threw her cellphone down on the bed and got up suddenly and walked around.

Everything about this room was designed flawlessly. There was a point in her life when such a luxurious room would have taken her breath away. She would've hopped from the bed, to the balcony, and ran around, excited and giddy. But now such things had lost their charm, or maybe she had lost the ability to feel joy in the simpler things in life.

Anzu Mazaki was fortunate enough to have had the opportunity to study dance in New York City. Leaving Domino almost 15 years ago, she pursued her dreams in the city where people went to find their dreams. It hadn't been easy, many nights were spent in the dance studio, dancing until her feet were swollen in her slippers. Until her muscles ached, begging her to sit – but she was determined to rise to stardom and be noticed not only for her talent, but also for her determination and strong-will.

When it came time to audition for a company, the 22-year old made it until the final round of selection. She could clearly remember the anticipation, the nervousness, but nothing could affect her that day. That day, she felt untouchable. So she danced, danced like she had never before, she felt as though there was no floor beneath her, she was hovering, gliding through her movements. Nothing felt more natural to her than that moment she was performing.

And nothing felt more devastating than when her competitor was selected. Gone was the grace that she had possessed her moments before as she stumbled in to the bathroom, barely able to hide the hiccupping that began with her sobbing. She fell to the corner of the stall, pulling her throbbing legs close to her chest, as her misery came in waves of tears, moaning, and hushed pleas to a God she had never turned to.

She knew it was a possibility, more than a possibility – the fact that she had made it this far had astonished many, a girl from Domino all the way to _almost_ being selected for a company. Almost. But she never had let herself think about failure. No, instead she let herself become seduced by the idea of living in a beautiful loft in Manhattan, having artists run around fitting her for her costume and designing her make-up, and attending galas after performances. This was the life she thought about, but the reality was that she was clutching herself in a public bathroom, hyperventilating between her tears.

After what seemed like enough time, her breathing had steadied and she decided to continue her pity-party at home. She knew revelling in her defeat wasn't the best thing, but she was broken, and everyone was entitled to feel dejected before they tried again. She quickly washed her face, but no amount of scrubbing would hide the puffiness and redness of her loss. Keeping her head faced towards the floor, she made a beeline for the exit before coming to a halt when another's shoes interrupted her path.

She looked up and was surprised to see a man she recognized from the audition. He put his hand forward for a handshake and she took it hesitantly.

"My name is Eric O'Connor, I was sitting in the background during the auditions. You've probably never heard of my name, but I work as an agent for Shira Modelling Agency," he explained, handing her his business card.

Anzu nodded her head respectfully and accepted his card, still unsure of his intentions.

"My friend, the head of the company you were trying out for, invites me to auditions occasionally because he knows there's a connection between what we both do. How would you like to model?"

Anzu stared at him, shocked at the question. Modelling? She had never considered modelling as a profession before. Her? Yes, modelling did require a certain level of grace, but it also needed a level of beauty that Anzu never thought of herself to possess. Stage make-up did wonders and being beautiful wasn't a necessity in dance, but modelling – people like Mai modelled, tall, blonde, leggy. People like Anzu watched.

She smiled politely. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not quite sure I fit the build."

He looked at her and laughed. "I've been doing this for 10 years. Maybe you have a biased view of modeling from a few too many Victoria Secret campaigns, but believe me, if you wanted to, this is a field I have no doubt you could excel in."

As she stood, she began her nervous habit, leg shaking. Modelling?

The 33-year old leaned against the window and looked out at the rest of the city. It was a rainy, fall afternoon, the kind that made you want to stay inside and keep warm with a nice cup of hot chocolate.

She had modelled for almost 8 years. But by the time she had reached her 30th birthday, she knew it was time to fade out of the business. It hadn't saddened her to leave it all behind, she had made her fortune, enough to last her for the rest of her life. Even though it had hurt her to leave dance, modelling had come naturally to her. It fulfilled her dreams of travelling all over the world, the fancy parties, the people, the loft – all of these had quickly come within her grasp when she began modelling. And now she was able to stay on with Shira, modelling occasionally for her favourite designers and doing a few covers. But she worked much less now. So for the last three years she did whatever she could to fill her time, travel the world once more, read, learn to cook – however, these past-times were just that, ways to pass time, nothing stuck as a lifestyle. So after almost 10 years, she went back to the dance studio and began to teach herself the art.

Her muscles were stiff, her movements sloppy, but after months of practise, she regained her ability once more. Within the last year, she opened her own studio and began teaching beginner ballet. The children had annoyed her at first, and within her first class, she stopped in the middle of a harsh reprimand and took a step back. For most of her life she had been surrounded by cut-throat professionals, bitchy models, and snarky designers. This environment had changed her, no longer was she the sweet cheerleader spitting out speeches on friendship. She quickly realized that if she wanted success and longevity in this career, she needed the edge as well. But it took her eight years to realize that the edge had changed her, and as she stared down at the young girl in her tutu, making a futile attempt to bit down on her lip and hold back her tears, Anzu felt empty. So she bent down towards the little girl so they were both levelled, and she whispered two words to her that Anzu hadn't uttered since the time she clutched onto herself on the floor of the bathroom.

"I'm sorry."

Anzu shook herself out of her daze and checked the clock in the room. He was late. She let out of a breath of impatience. Always punctual in business, but when it came to personal meetings, those could wait.

Just as the thought formed in her head, she heard the lock of the hotel room door click as it swung open. The electricity in the room was palpable, she attempted to keep up her face of nonchalance and slight annoyance at his tardiness, but her mask was slipping. Her heartbeat was racing as her eyes locked on his. She rarely let herself think of that night, but in one fell swoop, everything came back to her.

In a few short strides, he had her locked between his body and the entrance to the balcony. She closed her eyes and felt herself fall into his body for support, his hands left her elbows and wrapped around her waist, so as to engulf all her senses, so there was no part of her body, mind, or soul that wasn't with him.

It was so vivid, every feeling seemed just as clear as that night. One would think 15 years would have dulled the effects, but as she took a deep breath of his cologne, she knew it would always feel this way. He would always make her feel this way.

Her fingers grabbed the ends of his hair and pulled him close to her face. She smiled coyly as her lips teasingly hovered over his.

"Kaiba."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.**

Back with another one! Thank you to all those that reviewed/favourited/put it on alert, I really appreciate it! Please continue to provide feedback.

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_September 19, 2013_

Anzu sat timidly in front of her dresser, cautiously opening the top drawer, she took out a velvet box that had been thoughtfully put in the farthest corner – out of sight, out of mind. Her fingers caressed the smooth velvet, catching the dust that had settled upon it from the years it had been set aside. Opening it, she felt foolish of the gasp that escaped her lips when the diamonds shimmered back. She was brought back to the moment she first laid eyes on these earrings – she had feigned annoyance, that her affections could be thought to be bought, though expensively still. He attempted to put them away, playing along with her charade, but she went out to clutch his hand, and with a hint of a smile, she said there was no point in letting a gift go to waste.

The one part of her memory that stood out was the part that didn't happen – he didn't attempt to put the earrings on her. Didn't the giving of jewelry always imply that the giver adorn the recipient with the treasured item? That had been her expectation, but like most of their interactions, he always left her pining for her more.

Everything was the same as before, but still, everything had changed.

The clipped noise the box made as she closed it brought her back, she placed the trinket from her past back into the far corner of her drawer. Maybe she'd try again after some more time had passed, maybe not.

Anzu returned to staring at the broken woman in the mirror. Almost unrecognizable in the darkness that blanketed the room, except for the shattered azure eyes that somehow managed to capture the miniscule ounce of light within the room and shine back.

Eight years in modelling had gone by in such a whirlwind, that by comparison, two years without any activity had driven her to insanity. But it dawned on her now that her two years weren't hollow because she had left work, they were hollow because the person living the life was also hollow.

She brought her hands to her hair and finished the final touches of her simple bun – after years of outrageous and artistic photo shoots, it always brought her some relief to be able to dress simply, elegantly – an inconspicuous beauty, he had called her once. Her pale skin rouged with a natural blush as she remembered the way she felt when his eyes focused on her – light, breathless, as if she weren't just one in seven billion, but _the_ one in seven billion.

Anzu shook her head and walked away from her dresser. Smoothing out her emerald dress, she turned to her full length mirror and did a once over of herself. It was a strapless, floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline, a beautiful deep emerald that only accentuated the pale skin that lay beneath the dress. A black sash with a beaded design was tied around her waist, letting the gown hug her curves. She picked up her clutch and made her way to the door, her car would be here soon.

There was no use in giving in to such thoughts, like dance, Seto Kaiba was set aside as an unattainable dream.

-II-

Kaiba fixed his bowtie and took a deep breath, the beginning of many for tonight. He was dressed to impress, his suit was immaculate, a midnight black, three-piece suit managed to illuminate his midnight blue eyes. However, even after all these years spent in the most expensive suits, he always felt stiff and uncomfortable. And tonight, it would be no different. He hated attending these events, especially when he had to cut his work short. But he had begrudgingly made a promise to go to one gala, outside of his necessary work parties, a year, and unfortunately, he felt the need to live up to his word.

Kaiba turned to check his emails, hoping he might be able to finish up a few more things when he heard her storm into their room, leaving a destruction path in her wake.

"I'm not going tonight," Leah announced, dropping shopping bags to the floor.

Kaiba pinched the bridge of his nose and took another deep breath. "What?" He managed in the most even tone he could muster.

"Can't you _see_?" She asked in her shrill voice, pointing to her face.

"What?" He asked, this time his voice was strained.

"I have Mount-freaking-Everest on my face!" Leah screamed, throwing her arms in the air, apparently frustrated with him.

Kaiba began to undo his bowtie, "that's fine with me, I have some work I have to get—"

Leah's arm shot out and caught his. "_You_ still have to go," her eyes narrowed in on him. "We've accepted, people are expecting us."

"It doesn't really matter," he replied, trying to shrug her hand off.

She squatted his hand away and began retying his bowtie. "I don't care how much you hate these things, you promised me you'd go, so you'll go." She added with finality.

"I promised you I'd go, if you don't go, then there's no deal." Kaiba replied sternly, grasping her hand callously as he tried to remove her.

"Seto Kaiba, you will go. That brother of yours will be there, won't he?" She scoffed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, having no interest in discussing Mokuba tonight.

"Fine."

Leah smiled victoriously. "Make sure you bring home a lot of salacious details."

He mumbled something incoherently before stepping away from her and making his way towards the door. He paused at the entrance, turning around and nodding at her, acknowledging her presence as pleasantly as he could. He closed the door and took another deep breath, the usual ritual when he left their bedroom. His deep breath was also always followed with the thought of 'how much longer?', and every time, the haunting reality would settle on him that this wasn't one of his work projects with a deadline, this was, in the crudest sense of the word, forever.

-II-

"Anzu!"

Anzu spun around to find one of her favourite people making his way towards her.

"Eric!" She exclaimed, happily accepting the bear hug he engulfed her in.

"You look gorgeous! Can you believe all those years ago you didn't believe me?" He jibbed. She rolled her eyes and conceded to him.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" Anzu asked, as they made their way towards the bar.

"I did, but you know about these things a lot better than me," Eric replied, grabbing two glasses of champagne off the table.

"I did."

The New York City Ballet's Fall Gala was one event that after she had become famous enough, attended every year religiously. Regardless of where in the world she might be shooting, she always made it back to attend. It was both one of the happiest and saddest events, but often times, if she indulged in the people and drinks enough, she was able to focus on the beauty of the performances and ignore the ache in her heart of not being one of the dancers.

Eric gave her a pointed stare over his champagne flute. "Anzu," he chastised.

"I know, I've had an amazing life."

"You _have_ an amazing life," Eric corrected.

"I just wonder sometimes, you know, what if," Anzu explained.

"I know, but I don't want it to get you down. You have that beautiful studio now and my daughter thinks you must be an angel to be able to dance the way you do. You have it good, appreciate it."

Anzu smiled. "How is Angela?"

"I curse your name every day I hear her fall on the hardwood floors because she can't pirouette," Eric mumbled.

"She's a beautiful dancer, I know she'll get it," Anzu said, patting his back.

"With a teacher like you, I have no doubt."

Anzu glowed. It wasn't hard to have a soft spot for a girl like Angela, while some of the kids drove her up the wall, Anzu had immediately taken to Eric's daughter – which wasn't hard considering she possessed her father's charisma.

"I see some people I have to talk to," Eric muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"It must be hard, working a room filled with beautiful people, expensive booze, and fancy food," Anzu chided sarcastically.

Eric rolled his eyes once more before giving her a quick peck on the cheek and leaving her.

On the other side of the room, a raven-haired young man stood impatiently with his older brother.

"Mokuba, just go."

"Big brother, I know if I leave you now you'll stay in this corner glued to your Blackberry."

"So?"

"It's a party!"

"That I only agreed to come to because of Leah."

Mokuba rolled his eyes and grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter who strode by. "And how is my beautiful sister-in-law?"

Kaiba let out an irritated sigh. "Why don't you come by and ask her?"

"And listen to her go on and on about how her buying expensive dresses and going to fancy charity parties in Manhattan makes her the modern day Mother Teresa? I'll pass."

"Mokuba."

"Look, big brother, I supported you in everything and held my tongue about a lot of things, but can we not get into this tonight? You know I don't like her and she doesn't like me, but you two are married," Mokuba scoffed at the last word. "It's a good night tonight, she's not here and I can spend a little time with you, so can you please try?"

Kaiba sighed, reluctantly, he put his phone away. As he turned back to the younger Kaiba, he was taken aback at the childish grin staring back at him. Shaking his head, he gently shoved the younger Kaiba's shoulder, urging him forward.

As the two brothers made their way to the bar, Mokuba stared in awe at the beautifully decorated theatre. He wasn't much of a ballet-buff, but the performance had been amazing and the party afterwards was what he had come for. The lights in the promenade of the theatre had been dimmed to inspire an enigmatic feeling, which was further accentuated by the red and gold spotlights that had been scattered throughout the room. High above them hovered blue and white and red and white striped hot air balloons – giving the room a feeling of endlessness. The theatricality of the room was such a departure from the regular black-tie affairs Mokuba had to attend that he knew this wouldn't be his last time at the Fall Gala.

Kaiba, in his fashion, kept his eyes focused on the path ahead. He had noticed the decorations of the room, but they were more of a side-thought for the true reason he had scanned the room. Every time he came to these events, he did an unconscious sweep, looking for her. At first, he would deny it, claiming that he was scanning the room out of curiosity. But as he got older, it became harder to lie, because at this point, what did he have to hide from himself? So he allowed himself this one weakness. He had not actively pursued her in many years, no, he had fallen once, deeply and irrevocably, and like an addict, for many years after, he felt the painful after-effects of the withdrawal from her. Since then, he had relapsed once, but now, he was the smoker who would momentarily stand outside and catch the briefest of inklings of smoke in the air, testing the limits of his addiction and allowing himself a proxy relapse – a cheat.

As the older Kaiba turned sideways to allow a man to pass by, his eyes left his narrowed forward path and settled on her. Nearly two years had passed since he had last seen her at this very event. He was fortunate enough that his wife's social calendar made room for this event because he knew it was the one he would always be able to see her at. However, the last time he had been here, he was with Leah, and every time he managed gravitate his path towards her, she would disappear, avoiding him at all costs.

He allowed himself to momentarily revel in knowing that she could feel him staring at her. He could always tell from the way her body would tense, and if he could see enough skin, the way a beautiful pink blush would spread across her body, to parts he himself hadn't been familiar with for many years, but still knew.

He waited patiently for his favourite moment, the look she would give him. She needn't scan the room for him, as soon as she felt his eyes on her, she could pinpoint him exactly, and the look in her eyes always left him intoxicated. Entranced and captivated, he would find himself in front of her before he could even realize his body had carried him here – no, not his body, she had pulled him there. And through it all, the look in her eyes would never waver, he remained her single focus. Eyes of a sweet teenager he had seen years before, the confident model she had been, and the slighted women he knew he made her feel like.

"Anzu."

Her name was barely a whisper, quiet and serene in a room of boisterous noise.

"How have you been Seto?" She replied.

"Dance with me." He never asked, before his request, his hand was already caressing her wrist and leading her out onto the dance floor.

Leaning forward, he took a deep breath and let himself relapse into his addiction. If he wasn't completely absorbed in the moment, he might've chastised himself for being such a lovesick teenager. But she had that effect on him, he'd always be 18 when she looked at him with those beautiful azure eyes.

Mokuba sipped on his drink and watched the couple glide effortlessly across the dance floor. He wasn't a romantic, didn't indulge in silly stories or movies, but this, he could invest himself in and summon the few pieces of him that did believe in romance to still have hope for them.

"How have you been Seto?" Anzu asked, trying to ignore the tingling sensation coursing through her body.

"I've been fine."

Anzu rolled her eyes. "You've always been so easy to talk to," she muttered sarcastically.

Kaiba raised an eyebrow and smirked, "well my tongue is interested in doing much more than helping me talk."

Anzu's eyes widened as she felt her entire body heat up. Kaiba pulled her into his body and he felt her connect with him naturally, as if they'd done this many times before. Their movements, being with her – everything was effortless, as if it hadn't simply been two encounters between them, but a lifetime.

As the orchestra came to the end of the composition, Anzu lifted her head off his chest and looked determinedly into his midnight blue eyes.

"Thank you for the dance Seto," Anzu said softly, as she distanced herself from him.

His hand caught hers once more and they stayed still on the dance floor as the band began their next song.

"What's with you and walking away Mazaki?"

Anzu's jaw nearly unhinged and dropped to the floor. "_Me_ and walking away?"

Mokuba swept in between the two, grabbing Anzu's arm, he pulled her away from his brother. He knew his brother had the uncanny ability to get a rise out of people, and riling up Anzu was something he enjoyed. But before they could embarrass themselves here, Mokuba had to step in. He pulled the brunette away from his brother and began dancing with her on the other side of the dance floor.

"Anzu!" He exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around her happily. "Why don't I see you more often?"

Anzu, stiff at first, settled into the hug and sighed, "because you're much too important and self-involved to make time."

"I think you have me confused with someone else," Mokuba replied, rolling his eyes.

Anzu smiled softly, her eyes found the older Kaiba's back, moving away from her. Shaking her head, she returned her focus to the younger Kaiba. "No date tonight?"

"Just the brother and I."

"I'm surprised you were able to drag him out to this."

"Well he's forced to come to these things because of –" Mokuba stopped, his hand involuntarily clutching her waist a little more tightly.

Anzu took a deep breath in and smiled. "I know about the wife, Mokuba."

"I don't know if 'wife' is the word I'd use," Mokuba scoffed.

"Mokuba, she's your brother's wife, your sister-in-law."

"It should've been you."

Anzu stumbled in mid-step, but Mokuba was able to catch her and lead her back. He had said this to her before, and still, she was caught off guard. She had even thought it herself throughout the years, but to hear it out loud, vocalized by someone that wasn't her was astonishing, but also was able to numb the 15-year ache she carried. That she wasn't as pathetic and desperate as she thought herself to be, that someone else had seen what she thought might have just been a dream.

"Mokuba."

"Anzu, I know you know it too."

They stopped dancing and she wrapped her arms around him, burying her head into his chest. "You're the only person who knows how much I wish it was me."

Mokuba wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin atop her head. "I've never given up hope."

Anzu tilted her head and smiled up at the younger Kaiba. Getting on her tippy toes, she placed a gentle kiss on his face.

"I should go."

Mokuba nodded as he led her towards the exit. "You know, there's always another Kaiba that would love to take you away, he's a younger model and definitely much improved."

Anzu rolled her eyes and placed her hand on his cheek. "Isn't it sad that if I think about it now, it would've been much easier to have loved you and have been the pedophilic 18-year old in love with a 12-year old boy rather than be the 33-year old woman still holding out for the one night stand she had 15 years ago?"

"Well if you put it like that…" Mokuba smiled. He pulled her back into a hug and whispered into her hair, "he's a hard person to love Anzu. That club starts and ends with me and you."

Anzu nodded, taking his hand in hers, she smiled sadly, "goodnight Mokuba."

"Goodnight Anzu."

As she was about to step out of the party and towards the hired car for tonight, Kaiba caught her wrist, with a simple flick of his thumb across her skin, she felt heated everywhere. Anzu turned back to him in time to watch him wave off her driver and lead her towards his car.

Without question, she was seated in the passenger seat.

When they entered the parking garage of her building, no words had passed between them. He lead her through the doors and up to her home. There was a moment of hesitation when she realized he was waiting for her to open the door. He followed her, and only when she heard the door close did she turn to him.

"What is it Seto?" Her voice slightly cracking at the end.

"One more night Anzu," he answered her, placing his hands on her arms.

"Kaiba…" her voice trailing off.

He smiled. She only called him that in her moments of weakness, her moments of pleasure, and when she needed him to know that she still loved him. 'Seto' came out of her when she wanted to maintain a distance, to show him that she could be without him. But when she threw her head back, caught in rapture, it was 'Kaiba' she called out for.

His hand went to her face and brushed away her bangs from her eyes. "You know I never have to try very hard."

And with that egotistical comment, she laughed, from deep within her chest it bubbled and she threw her head back, cutting all tension between them.

"You've always been a prick," she muttered back in such a way it seemed as her tone indicated a much sweeter sentiment. But it was dangerous to enjoy his company. "Seto, you're married now."

"It's nothing more than a piece of paper that she and I signed, there's nothing there Anzu," he whispered into the crevice of her neck, letting his breath tickle her skin, and without even touching her, she was beginning to waver.

"Kaiba, please…" She didn't know what she was pleading for.

Placing his hands on her face, he tilted her face up towards his, his lips hovering only a few tantalizing inches above hers.

"I know all you need is time to convince yourself Mazaki, and if I wanted to, I could throw you onto your bed and take great pleasure in convincing you for hours."

A shiver involuntarily traveled up her spine, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to imagine all the ways he could make her repeatedly and incoherently scream yes.

"I'll be back for you Mazaki."

By the time she managed to open her eyes, he was gone. She almost didn't want to believe he had been there, but the feelings coursing through her body were more intense than she could ever imagine, and the bitter aftertaste he left her with after every encounter was beginning to settle in.

He always left her wanting more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.**

You all have **Anshu **to thank for this update. If it wasn't for her leaning over my shoulder and reminding me of my weekend deadline (which I managed to meet, Sunday night here!), I wouldn't have had any motivation to post this. The belief that the best art is only created under oppression might be an apt description - well hopefully!

Just as a **warning** - this chapter does contain some **M-rated content **at the end, I wasn't sure what direction I was going to go in when I first started, and I'm still not sure if there will be more to come, but just as a warning, this story may change to an M-rating if it fits.

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_November 3, 2013_

"Now we stretch, all the way to our tippy toes. Excellent, and then we stretch again, as high as we can. Try touching the ceiling – without jumping Kayla," Anzu laughed. "Why don't we review what we learned last week? Alex, can you tell us?"

A shy, little boy looked down at his fingers with a stubborn expression. His father had told Anzu about some of the teasing and bullying he was the target of at school, and as much as he resisted, he still enjoyed class.

"Mretiréshevant," he mumbled under his breath.

Anzu smiled, she steadied her right leg and lifted her left leg, pointing her left foot towards her right knee. "Retiré devant, this position can be used during a pirouette or as a transition to something else, like…" Anzu rose to pointe and extended her left arm in the air, above her head while her left leg straightened outwards, "battement développé."

Her students stared at her in awe, even Alex was entranced by the grace with which she performed each move.

She clapped her hands, "alright students, to the bar, hold it for support and let me see your retiré devant."

The students ran towards the mirrored side of the studio, trying to perform with the grace of their teacher. Alex made his way to the farthest corner of the room, he held the bar tightly and managed to imitate Anzu beautifully. As she made her way towards him, he caught sight of her in his peripheral vision and he bent his supporting leg and fell forward, feigning inability.

"Alex."

"I don't really practise at home," Alex began, shrugging his shoulders.

Anzu bent down and sighed, "you're a wonderful dancer Alex, and I know it's hard, because everyone thinks ballet is for girls, but it really isn't."

Alex rolled his eyes.

"You may not understand this now, but in a few years, these kids who tease you, you won't be in school with them anymore, it'll be a new group of kids. Slowly, you'll find people who are friends with you because they like you, not because of who they want you to be. If you enjoy ballet Alex, hold on to it, it'll teach you something so much better than those bullies will ever learn."

Alex stared thoughtfully at her, confused and unsure of whether or not there was truth to what she had said. He sighed and nodded, turning towards the bar, he held the retiré devant for her and didn't let go. Touching her hand to his hair, she smiled and turned her attention to the other students in her class.

-II-

He stood at the entrance of the studio, watching the students observe her, wide-and moony-eyed. It was no secret her students adored her, and as she drifted through the room, he saw the affection and patience she gave each student. It was no wonder she had been able to tolerate him long enough to accept him for how he was. There was never an attempt to change him, she never asked of him more than he could give. He, on the other hand, stretched her thin, he was selfish and took from her whatever he could get the rare moments he could. He was ravenous, unsatiated by her – every moment with her, he became more and more undone, and even as he remained resolute to hold himself together, he knew he was slipping faster and faster.

He turned and saw parents slowly coming in, moving away from the door, the children came running through and into the arms of their parents. The room filled with happy chatter about the day's lesson and the recital in December. Finally, she emerged, nodding politely and saying goodbye to her students. A man approached her and pulled her into a tight embrace, Kaiba narrowed his eyes at him, he watched as a young girl pulled his coat and he joyfully picked her up. Anzu held her hand and smiled. The man and his daughter were the last to leave, finally, she turned to him.

"Say it."

He perched an eyebrow.

"Whatever insult it is that you came to throw at me."

She went back into the studio and he followed her, closing the door behind them. Antsy and unfocused, she managed to feign concentration for the hour she taught class, but all the while, thoughts were racing and buzzing. It were as if a million different things needed her attention, a million tiny details that gnawed at her back because she kept her face turned away from them.

She lifted her right leg to the bar that spanned horizontally across a mirrored wall. Stretching her right arm towards her foot, she left hand came over her head and she closed her eyes, allowing her muscles to limber. He watched her hungrily. She repeated the movement for her left side. Then she reached upwards, slowly shifting her weight to her tippy toes. He saw her muscles clench through her black leotard. Opening her eyes, she began to dance, with no music, she used the beating of her heart to guide her, slow at first, gentle and smooth. And when she thought she could, her sapphire eyes connected with his and her movements went racing. Faster she spun, her heart trying to catch up with her now, everything whirled by until he was nothing more than a mesh of colours in the corners of her eyes.

Using the support of her right leg, she lifted herself up and attempted to kick out her left leg, with a slight shift in weight, her ankle twisted painfully and she began to fall. Throwing her arms out before her, she fell into his firm body.

Panting, the sweat on her brow settled and she looked up at him.

"It's not as easy as it used to be," she smiled. He smiled back at her, propping her on her feet. Her hands glided down his dress shirt, her ego inflated when she recognized it was last night's crisp shirt that was wrinkled now.

"Seto Kaiba is doing the walk of shame through the streets of New York City."

"I wouldn't have to if you stayed in one spot," he replied forcefully, his hands clasping the sides of her waist.

"Then I'd be denied the pleasure of being chased."

"But then you deny yourself the pleasure of me."

His lips hovered over her neck as he purred those words to her. She didn't need to see his face to know he was smirking.

"There are others who can take your place."

A finger jabbed him in his abdomen, he stepped back and coughed.

"You're not exactly irreplaceable Mazaki."

"And you're not 'one of a kind'."

He approached her with authoritative strides, she moved back with quick steps until he had her between the bar and his body. Pressing himself against her, she leaned back and closed her eyes, a moan escaping her lips.

The heat of his hand on her waist spread quickly, even though the leotard provided little protection, it was more material between them than they preferred.

"It doesn't look like anyone's gotten as good of a rise out of you as I have. Still do."

She was panting, his hand was cupping her breast.

"Tell me Mazaki, when was the last time someone fucked you so thoroughly that you got yours too?"

She was red, she ignored the jabs he was getting in as she was momentarily handicapped. The ache between her legs was pounding through her head. She gripped the bar tightly with both hands and leaned into his palm, wanting more than he was currently giving.

"If you could shut up, I could actually enjoy myself right now."

He smirked. His hand left her breast, the disappointment obvious in her features. His fingers traveled over her taut body and found themselves between her legs. Pressing against her, the heat radiated through his body and he felt himself twitch in his pants.

"Seems as though you're enjoying yourself plenty."

She looked at him and laughed. Lifting her knee, she ran it over the front of his pants "And I suppose that's just your cellphone."

He pressed his fingers harder and watched as she bit down on her bottom lip, chewing it to supress the moan that was begging for release.

"Tell me Mazaki, tell me how much you want it."

Biting harder on her lip, her hips began to move on their own volition with his fingers.

"Tell me it's me you see every time you wake up, tangled in your sheets."

"Is it me you see when you fuck your wife?"

A beat passed between them before Anzu pressed her ballet slippers against his abdomen and kicked, hard. He stumbled a few steps before he fell to the floor. Breathing heavily, he looked up and found her looking down at him.

"You have to go."

She didn't even make eye contact with him. Pulling himself up, he reached out for her wrist.

"Anzu."

She remembered the first time he said her name, it was that night – their origin. She always secretly hoped to be able to tell the tale of how they ended up together; theirs wasn't the cute meet-and-greet story many couples perfected in telling over time. Theirs was confounding, seemingly irregular pieces of fate which were haphazardly put together. But nonetheless, it was a story, it was _their_ story. But telling it also involved them being together, which no matter how many times fate tried to jam their pieces together, it didn't fit.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Her body tensed, and he knew she was fighting tears.

"You're married."

"That's—"

"That's what?"

She tore her hand away from his and faced him. "A technicality? Inconsequential?"

"Anzu."

She thrust her hand out. "Stop!" Her voice was becoming shrill. "I'm an adulterer now Kaiba. How does that sound? Has a nice ring to it, no? Maybe I'll add it to my business card – Anzu Mazaki, model, ballet teacher, and fucking adulterer."

"It's redundant to have both the 'fucking' and 'adulterer' since being an 'adulterer' implies—"

"Don't."

Anzu bit her lip and held back her smile. Verbal sparring, battle of the wits, snarky banter – this was their aphrodisiac. This was the reason why, even after living in the same city for years, they avoided one another. Seemingly ill-tempered and pugnacious, their foreplay only ended one way.

Looking past him, she caught her reflection in the mirror behind him, she gravitated towards it and stared at herself for a moment. There was no physical difference between how she looked yesterday morning and now, but something momentous had taken place last night and she could feel the storm brewing. She hoped that it would never come to this. When she heard he was getting married, she prayed that she could hold herself together and stay away, and for 5 years, she'd been able to. So why had everything fallen apart so effortlessly? Did she have such little resolve?

"It's always been hard between us Kaiba, why can't you close the door and move on?"

"Have you moved on?"

She turned to him. "I…"

He took a step forward, forcing her to take one back. His body loomed over hers – he wanted her to know that he wasn't going to back down.

"You what, Mazaki?"

"I…" Another step forward, one more step back.

She felt he cool wood of the bar through her leotard once more. He brought his hands to either side of her, forcing her to sit upon the bar, caught between his body and the mirror again.

"Do it again, Mazaki. Run."

He let her name run along his tongue has he spread her legs apart, allowing her to feel his hardness through her leotard. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and brought him closer. He bit her softly on the neck, enjoying the shiver that ran through her body and into his. Suddenly, he pulled her off the bar and pushed her forward against the wall, pressing into her back, he whispered into her ear, "Because this time, I'm not letting you get far."

With that, he pulled her leotard and stockings down off her body, she kicked it away as she ripped open his shirt, buttons scattering everywhere in her studio. Tangling his shirt in her fists, she pulled him down to meet her lips; her body was painfully pressed against his and the awkward bulge the bar made against the wall, but she didn't care. Never had she wanted more agonizingly to be closer to someone as she did right now, and as she had last night. His hands were calloused and the friction his rough fingertips were creating set her body aflame. Her hands went to the buckle of his pants and quickly removed any obstacles standing between them.

Taking her wrists in his hands, he spun her around and held her hands against the mirror. His hands slid down her arms and stopped at her breasts. Anzu rolled her head back and rested it on his shoulders, giving him access to her neck. Sliding further, Anzu moaned as his fingers began deftly applying pressure to her in slick, circular motions. Biting her ear, he replaced his fingers with himself and he was undone. He looked up and saw a dishevelled man looking back at him, one that was caught in the rapture of a good fuck, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stay away this time. Once, he has been able to pick up and leave, but this time, he knew his addiction would only end one way.

Her moans were making it impossible to think of anything else, and as he pounded into her, he wanted nothing more than to remain in this moment, with her lying helplessly on his body. Sweat settled over their bodies as he held her waist, her arms still pressed against the mirror for support. Primitive whispers and groans nuzzled against her ear, and he moaned, "look in the mirror."

Her milk chocolate hair was damp with sweat, sticking to her body, her chest was rising and falling raggedly as her body worked to keep in time with his. She watched the years of work to keep herself tightly wound become undone and she knew that last night was not fuelled by nostalgia. A moment of weakness she could be allowed, in the hours afterward and while she ran out of the hotel room, she had managed to convince herself that Seto Kaiba was not a master of sex, her body had only responded to the intensity with which she remembered him 15 years ago. But now, as his long, deep strokes became jagged, she knew it would always be this good. And only with him. The anxiety from moments ago was pushed to the back of her mind as she threw her head back and screamed his name, she came undone with him.

Leaning into the mirror, her breasts pressed against the cool glass and her entire body, reeling from the heat, was covered in goose bumps. He leaned into her, his arms wrapped around her waist and he placed chaste kisses on her shoulder.

With an arm propping her on the mirror, she stared at herself. Moments ago she looked for the difference between the version of her from yesterday and right now, and now, it was staring her point blank. Her naked body was pressed against a man who she'd been in love with from the moment he whispered her name at a party neither of them were supposed to be at. Now, 15 years later, they were on the other side of the world, in the same state had once been in. But the elation she had felt that night was instead replaced by the guilt coursing through her veins that he had gone through these motions, more appropriately, with a woman he had made vows to.

Shaking her head, she pushed everything down. There would be time for questions later, right now, all she wanted to do was focus on his lips pressing against her neck and the tremors going through her body every time he nipped her with his teeth. And as she lost herself once more, she knew that Anzu Mazaki – model, ballet teacher, and adulterer, would do for now.


End file.
